Watchmaking Revisited
by WolfAtSea
Summary: A high school AU – or is it really? Another reality, another town, another school; the most defining three years of their lives. Featuring the Winchester gang and select angels and demons. Will they make the same choices they've always made? Is it better to remember or to forget?
1. Prologue - What is God?

Prologue – What Is God?

"_Am I God?_ It is a very interesting question indeed." The man that is usually known as Principle Shurley swivels around to face the troublemaker. He continues:

"Perhaps what I should ask you is, what is God? Is he some heavenly watchmaker that has long ago designed the lives of all of us? Does he know everything? Is he a loving Father presiding over his children, or just an all-powerful child-at-heart playing with his toys, his 'creations'? Your soul, your bright, shining soul, is that just an aggregation of chemical signals and energy or is there something more? Is there a purpose to our lives on earth – why are we here? Is there a fixed set of rules that governs the Universe and all of us? If so, did God set the rules, or did we? Does God hold in his hands our fate, or do we? Do we have free will, after all?

"In this case, I guess the most important question is whether there is such things that are inevitable? Do we choose how we act and what we do, or were they set in stone long ago? Can we excuse the bad deeds we do and undermine the good ones even so? Or in this case, if given a second chance, will we do the same thing without even knowing it, will we make the same mistakes all over again?"

The Principal now stands and looks into the eyes of his student. "Now you ask me, is any of this real? Well, Dean Winchester, what is real? For me, I think real is not what you see, but rather how you _feel_."

TBC...


	2. One - I Know Exactly How This Goes

Chapter One – I Know Exactly How This Goes

The truck came to a stop in front Forestlake District High School. It was, in every sense, a very plain looking school: one big, reddish orange coloured building, a field with multiple purposes on the side, and a big billboard in front with "Welcome Back to School" in white and red block letters.

"Well, off you go, boys." Said Bobby Singer, "Be good." Sammy Winchester, who was always ready for school, hopped off with ear buds still in - presumably listening to either Mozart or some girlish boy band. Dean just sat unmoving in the passenger seat.

"What? Not excited?"

Dean had not wanted to move back to where he was born. Of course he was excited about the prospect of living with Bobby on his auto salvage yard, but returning to "middle-of-nowhere, Ontario" did not seem like a very appealing idea to him anyhow. He was turning sixteen; he was young, full of energy. He had not wanted the apple pie life, mowing lawns and shovelling snow. He had begged to follow his father to see the world out there, but of course Dad said he couldn't bring the boys along. He could never bring the boys along.

Dean turned to look at the old mechanic. "What on earth is there to be excited about? A new boring year in a new boring school?"

"Don't be such a pessimist, boy."

"I'm just being realistic, Bobby." Dean said as he exited the truck, "I know exactly how this goes."

Bidding Bobby goodbye, the 10th grader ran to catch up with his little brother. "Follow me, I know where the guidance offices are."

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"Eight courses, can you believe that? What the hell is Careers? And why do I _have to_ study English if the only thing I want to do as a living is fixing cars?"

"Because, Dean, it makes you a more educated person." Sam said in a you-are-hopeless tone as they walked down the crowded hallway with freshly printed schedules in hand.

"I can't imagine what society would be like if it was filled with geeks like you." Dean said, watching his little brother disappear into the Grade Eight homeroom. He looked again at his timetable. First period: Mathematics 10. _Simply awesome._ He started dragging his feet to the other end of the hall. _Seven and a half long hours until school's out. Ninety-nine long days until Christmas. When did Dad say he would come home again? …_

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The only good thing about being new in grade ten, Dean decided, was that there generally weren't name games and getting-to-know-you sessions involved at the start of every class. This way, he could just sulk at the back of the classroom and blend in. It seemed that people couldn't care less about who he was anyway.

One phrase to describe Forestlake District High? Excessively boring. Even the returning students looked as if they weren't particularly elated to see one another again. Well, the town was so small that they probably see everyone all the time whether school was on or not.

Even though most of the teachers lacked visible enthusiasm in their subjects, the classes were not so bad. In English, they were handed a brand new book – something about two aboriginal boys fighting in the First World War. Dean didn't care much about more discussions on the aboriginals; nowadays, it seemed that there were only two topics in English – First Nations in Canada and African American rights in the States. It was excessively boring. But World War One was cool, so it was all good. Math was like always: a ton of x and y and factoring – stuff that they would never use in real life. In Careers, Dean wrote "A MECHANIC – JUST LIKE MY DAD AND UNCLE" on the Future Careers Questionnaire, and gave the teacher a horrified look when he looked over his transcript and said "Have you ever considered mechanical engineering?" That old, bald guy left him alone after that.

At lunch, Sammy trotted over to where Dean was staring out of the cafeteria window, with a _salad _on his tray. _What 14-year-old eats a salad for lunch in a public school cafeteria that is the very embodiment of unhealthy diet and moral decay?_ "Hi, Dean."

"Sammy, it will be much more beneficial for your social life if you don't sit with your big brother during lunch."

"I don't care. Besides, I have a friend already."

"Oh, really?" The Winchester boys were no social flower, and the constant moving from place to place didn't help. Dean didn't care much about how many friends he had in this school – he just couldn't wait to get out of here, and school in general – but he did want his little brother to be well liked. Sammy might have to stay in this place for a long, long time before he graduated.

"Sure I do. His name's Kevin. He's such a wizard in math class. And oh, right, we are going to a math club meeting after school, and it's gonna run until six…" Trust Sammy to get mixed up with the biggest nerds in school. _Math club on the first day? Geez._

"Don't worry, I'll get Bobby to pick you up."

"What about…"

"I'll walk home. It's fine – it's not that far anyway."

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In Drama, the teacher gave an hour-long lecture on the art of performing that put nearly everyone to sleep. Dean had taken drama only because he had never picked up an instrument and, despite his pride of being a handyman, he could not draw for his life. That kept him out of either Music or Visual Art, so the only easy credit he could take was Drama. Stuff like Computer Science and Information Technology was more Sammy's forte.

Dean's science teacher was quite a character. He introduced himself as Doctor Melville – what on earth is a _Doctor_ doing teaching at a public school like this – and with his round glasses and clean lab coat, looked the part. He announced that the kids were to start this exciting unit of Chemistry with some "fun and easy hands-on experiments" – or so it said on the instruction sheet.

Dean looked to the boy that happened to sit beside him. "Lab partner?"

The small boy with messy, dark hair regarded him for a few seconds. "Sure." He finally said. The boy looked too young to be in Dean's grade, but he carried himself with such stolidness that he might as well be a thousand-year-old supernatural being. _Okay, now that is a bit exaggerated. Must be Science being the last period and all._

Looking too calm or not, the kid sure knew his way around the lab. When they finished the easy – to the kid, not necessarily to Dean – and not-so-fun experiments early, there was nothing to do but chat while waiting for the bell to ring.

"Hmm, I never got your name. Sorry but I'm new around here, so…"

"It's fine. Most people in this class don't know me because I'm in grade nine." The boy said with sort of a gravity that was funny both to his age and the topic at hand. "My name is Castiel. Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Cas… what?"

"Castiel."

"What sort of name is that?" Dean knew that he shouldn't discriminate people by ethnic background and things like that, but… Castiel? _That is one weird name._

The boy shrugged. "Not really sure. Some sort of angel's name. My brother's called Balthazar. My parents liked old-sounding names, I guess."

"Okay, Cas, you said…"

"It's Castiel." The boy insisted.

"Yeah, I know. But isn't Cas much simpler? It'll catch on, trust me." Dean was rather enjoying this. "You really smart?"

"Me? No."

"Then why did you get put up a grade?"

'Don't know..."

"Aw, come on, you _are_ smart. You knew about everything we did today."

"The fact that I know Chemistry doesn't make me smart." The boy said half to Dean and half to himself. The bell rang right after that; all the students couldn't wait to get out, and the Doctor had to yell for everyone to stay and clean up the lab.

"See you around, Cas." Dean patted the kid on the back as he walked out.

"Goodbye, Dean."

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Dean was looking down at the pavement on his walk home when someone fell into step with him.

"You are the new kid, right? Dean…"

"Winchester." He looked up to see a boy who he recognized to be in his drama class. Maybe math class, too? "Dean Winchester. Yes, it's my first day here."

The boy dirty blonde hair, and what might as well be a perpetual smirk. "Yup. We've been in the same classes the whole day, so I thought, why not be sociable? You walking that way, too?"

"Yeah. I live on Singer's Salvage Yard with Bobby."

"No school bus running there?"

"I suppose there is, but I don't mind walking once in a while. Bobby said he'd pick us up, but my little nerdy brother has to stay for some math club."

The boy chuckled. "I've got a big brother like that. Wants to be some big-name doctor when he grows up. So you like it here so far?"

"Nah. It's just school. No different than any other school."

"What about the town? No different than any other town, eh?" Luc offered. "It's middle-of-nowhere, Ontario, after all."

"You said it, man."

"Hey, you fix cars on the Salvage Yard? I've been there; it's a sick place."

"Yeah, I'll be a mechanic, one day. But now my kid brother's pestering me to help him with his soapbox race car thing. It's almost done." Dean didn't know why he said that. He was sort of afraid that the stranger would think doing small town soapbox derby when you were sixteen was a little dumb.

"You guys are doing the soapbox race in Peterborough?"

"Yeah. Lame, right?"

"Lame? No, it's not lame! It's awesome! Michael's car breaks the speed limit every year!" The boy's eyes lit up a little, and the comical scowl on his face was gone. "You know what? _We_ should make one together. And it's going to be better and faster than my brother or your brother's."

"Sounds good." Seeing the boy's enthusiasm, Dean had to smile as well. "Care to give me your name before we embark on the grand project?"

"Oh, right, how rude of me." The boy suddenly started to waver a bit. "Well, this is usually the part where people started laughing … Yes, I admit that my given name is sort of … unusual? But, okay, can you just call me Luc? Spelled l-u-c?"

"Mmn, sure, whatever you wanna be called, man. But what _is_ your real name, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Lucifer."

Dean searched his mind for the name. "Oh. Like Satan?"

Luc smiled a small, self-mocking smile. "Yeah, like Satan."

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"So this is where I live. Guess my brothers aren't home yet." Luc stopped at the doorway of a real aristocratic-looking establishment just outside of town centre. It had been a little awkward between Dean and his new acquaintance ever since the weird first name part, although Dean honestly couldn't see why it bothered Luc so much. It was just a name. _Kid's got wacky parents, what can you say about that._

"Dude, that is a _big_ house." Dean couldn't help but remark.

"Yeah. Gets a bit creepy at night." Luc said. "Michael used to make up ghost stories to scare Gabriel. But we've got a real sick theatre in the basement to play X-box in." _So Luc had brothers called Michael and Gabriel. Hmm, probably religious nuts. Crazy rich religious nuts._

Dean pulled out his cell phone and the two boys exchanged numbers. "Give me a call when you're ready to start on the soapbox car."

"Sure thing. See you tomorrow in school."

Dean watched absent-mindedly as Luc entered through the large gates and jogged uphill towards the house that would be better described as a mansion. Dean's family was not rich in any sense, and he'd never wanted to be rich, but once in a while, he couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to live in a house like Luc's.

"I wouldn't if I were you." Said a voice with a distinctive accent. Dean turned rapidly and found himself looking at a short, dark haired boy in white shirt and pants.

"Come again?"

"I wouldn't make friends with him if I were you. He's one of the Alighieris – they spell nothing but trouble. I know my way around here; I can show you the best people to make friends with. Name's Crowley. Edward Crowley."

Dean stared at this "Crowley", who extended his hand in a nearly archaic fashion, incredulously. The boy was clearly a Brit. "Are you trying to be Draco Malfoy from _Harry Potter_?"

"What? No…"

"Dude, why don't you mind your own business? I don't know what you've got against Luc, but I don't need anybody telling me who I should choose to be friends with. And what pansy wears these to a school like this?" Dean looked critically at the boy's attire.

"Suit yourself, mate. But don't say nobody warned you when you land yourself in trouble." The Brit sneered and took back his hand. "And I don't go here. I go to the College."

TBC…


End file.
